


he was chilling, looking hot

by freddiepreston



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Pop Punk Band, M/M, i love my tiny punks, punk!ian, punk!mandy, punk!mickey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 10:40:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3566678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freddiepreston/pseuds/freddiepreston
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"i met you at a concert i got dragged to and we kinda made out backstage and you’re kinda the drummer of the band i kinda dissed earlier AU"</p>
<p>OR </p>
<p>Mandy drags Mickey to Warped Tour. He's less than impressed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	he was chilling, looking hot

There’s only two things Mickey genuinely hates in the world - wasting his time, and pop punk. Warped Tour happened to have both these things in one place. A place Mickey happened to be in at the same time, courtesy of queen of the fucking emos herself, Mandy Milkovich.

 

Warped Tour was a music festival that was mostly for punk music. Except recently it fell into more of the pop punk category, which Mickey hated. The line-up used to be good a few years back, but recently it just started getting worse, and worse. And of course, being the pain in his ass she’s always been, Mandy wanted to go this year.

 

Sometimes Mickey really hated his sister, too.

 

“Mickey, it’ll be fun!” Mandy whined with two tickets in her hand. Mickey felt the urge to eat both of the tickets just to avoid going. He didn't, thinking about the potential trouble it could have on his digestive system. Did paper dissolve well in stomach acid? He'd have to google it later.

 

“What part of twenty year olds whining about how much they hate the view of their city from their mom’s basement seems fun to you?” he bit back.

 

She looked like she wanted to go on about how that isn’t what it is - what all of it is, anyway - or how nice it’ll be to get some sunlight for once, but she knows Mickey. And she knows that he’s quite content being Casper the Friendly Ghost in seventy eight degree weather. But she also does know how to get Mickey to reconsider.

 

“They’re really hot. And probably desperate. And at least one of them is bound to be gay,” She tried, giving him puppy eyes.

 

Mickey glared at her. That shit wasn’t working. Not for this.

 

Mandy dropped her nice girl act and reverted back to the stone cold bitch face Mickey grew up with. “Issues will be there.”

 

And fuck if Mickey is gonna miss his 0.0000000001% chance of fucking Tyler Carter.

 

Still, Mickey really hated his sister.

 

-

 

The closer it got to the actual date, the more Mickey regretted saying yes. Mandy had a fucking countdown and told him every morning, 'X amount of days before Warped!' And each time it happened, he felt like ripping out an entire fingernail. Mickey's done a lot of stupid things before, but this just might be the worst.

 

He's not sure when his hatred for pop punk got so intense, it just happened. When he was eleven and Mandy was nine, they moved in with their aunt to get away from their piece of shit father. It was the last time either of them saw him, thankfully. Their aunt Lucy, though, didn't really know how to connect with them; didn't know what they liked - hell, they didn't know either - so she just found things she liked when she was their age. As it would happen, she loved rock music.

 

That's how it all started, he thinks.

 

He and Mandy loved it. They bonded a lot over oldies rock music and it kept the two of them stuck together like glue for years. And then Mandy discovered pop punk.

 

Mickey fucking hated it.

 

Every second of every day it seemed Mandy would play songs that sounded way too similar at the highest volume she possibly could. Sometimes he swore his ears started bleeding, it was that terrible.

 

Something about it just didn’t sit well with him. He personally much prefered to someone scream into his ear. Funnily enough, it’s what Mickey started listening to.

 

It started when he tried to find music to drown out Mandy’s. He figured some guy screaming an unidentifiable stream of words could drown out some dumb prick with the voice of an eight year old girl. Maybe it wasn’t the best thing to listen to, but it’s better than the shit Mandy played.

 

He ended up getting more than he bargained for.

 

He did enjoy it, honestly. Sure, he couldn’t really understand what half of the lyrics were, but he felt the bass in his heart and the drum in his toes. Who gave a fuck about the lyrics? He felt on top of the world when he listened to it; like no one else mattered.

 

Pop punk just sucked. He didn’t get it. They all had the same whiny, obnoxious sound to them, and Mickey didn’t see the appeal. And now he was going to an all-day festival to showcase all the hardcore wannabes in one place. Mickey starts to wonder if the tiny chance of fucking Tyler Carter is worth it.

 

(It is).

 

-

 

The minute they get in Mickey thinks about picking a fight with a security guard so he can get kicked out and leave. But then he looks at Mandy and suddenly feels like a giant douche for even thinking about it.

 

She looks so excited; maybe a little overwhelmed. There’s band members walking around mixed in with the fans (and a freak or two) and Mandy looks like she can’t believe she’s actually here. The last time Mandy looked this happy was when Fall Out Boy came off hiatus. He couldn’t ruin this for her - he wasn’t terrible.

 

“Can you find the schedule?” Mandy asked him.

 

“How would I know where the schedule is?”

 

“It’s a massive red and yellow blow up, Mickey. It’s hard to fucking miss it.”

 

Mickey spat out some snarky remark about her having eyes and as  Mandy punched him in the arm in retaliation, she spotted it.

 

She punched Mickey in the arm again for being a piece of shit.

 

Sometimes Mickey really hates being a really great brother.

 

-

 

Standing in a crowd for a show he didn’t want to see in the first place frustrated Mickey to no end. It was bad enough he had to sit around and listen to some douche sing about his growing pains or some shit like that, but people seemed to think this a good song to mosh to right behind Mickey. Mandy stood beside him, jumping and screaming and generally enjoying herself while Mickey was considering getting jail time for homicide.

 

He spent the entire set wondering how anyone could enjoy this shit. It all sounded the same to him. I hate my town. my parents don’t understand. this girl doesn’t like me. I’m gonna shove a generic guitar riff down your throat now. I’m an outcast, enjoy my outcast tears. Mickey didn’t see any appeal to here someone whine about their life.

 

The thing with metal is it’s almost like the lyrics are optional, because they’re fucking screaming. You can’t hear a fucking thing they're saying unless you really try, and Mickey sometimes chooses not to. He chooses to listen to actual music over the lyrics, because Mickey is hardly ever impressed.

 

He’s even less impressed when the singer is a whiny fuckboy and overpowers the already shitty music. What the fuck is pop punk, anyway?

 

-

 

“You didn’t even move! The whole set! What the fuck is wrong with you?” Mandy asked as they walked around. It was nearly two o’clock and the next torture fest didn’t start for another hour, so they figured they’d get something to eat. Mickey thought that some pizza might be the highlight of his day.

 

"Just appreciate that I'm here and haven't punched anyone yet,"

 

"When Jenna McDougall tells you to jump, you fucking jump," Mandy exclaimed, ignoring everything Mickey had said.

 

"Jenna McDougall can't make me do shit."

 

Mandy sighed. "She's the most beautiful women in the world. How the fuck do you just -" she trailed off.

 

Mickey glared and her before slightly lowering his voice. "Don't know if you noticed, I'm kind of gay."

 

"And I'm kind of straight. But I'm not blind." She started. "Can you at least pretend to enjoy yourself though? You're making me feel like shit for dragging you here,"

 

Mickey huffed out a small laugh - the most enthusiastic sound he's made all day - before replying to his sister. "As you should, I'm having a shitty time." Mandy stuck her tongue out at him but he still saw her face fall and twist with guilt, and fuck if that didn't make him feel bad.  "I'll start enjoying myself when we find Tyler Carter, got it?"

 

Mandy smiled. "What about a look-a-like?"

 

Mickey thought for a second. "We'll see how desperate I get,"  he settled.

 

Mandy smiled. It was enough.

 

-

 

Mickey ate his pizza extremely slowly hoping to use it as an excuse to not go in the crowd. Mandy begged - nearly took his food and dumped it, for fucks sake - but eventually gave him the OK to sit on the grassy hill beside where the stage was set up.

 

“If you run away, Mickey, I swear I’ll skin you alive. I know where you live,” she half joked.

 

“Yeah, whatever you say, Ed Gein. I’ll stay put.”

Mandy smiled and ran off to join the crowd again. Mickey doesn’t think he’s ever seen his sister smile so much in one day. To be honest, it kind of made his tiny, black, heart swell to at least a size just below average. As much as being here made him want to bash his skull against the pavement, seeing Mandy enjoy herself so much made it worth it.

 

-

 

_From: emo queen_

_the next band i wanna see is at this stage too!! u can continue being all mopey on your grass patch_

_To: emo queen_

_thanks for ur permission_

_From: emo queen_

_maybe tyler carter will take pity on your sorry ass and carry you away, princess mickey :)_

_To: emo queen_

_he seems to have a big heart_

_To: emo queen_

_and a big dick.  hopefully_

 

Mickey pocketed his phone, not really caring what Mandy had to say anymore. She was enjoying herself, surrounded by a bunch of overexcited losers, and Mickey was enjoying himself, on his grass patch. His half dead grass patch. He starts to wonder if it was like that when he sat down or if his bad vibe killed it within the last forty-five minutes. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter.

 

The last band was probably the worst one Mickey had heard today. They were as generic and whiny as the others, but somehow this was just worse. It seemed sloppy, and less experienced. Mickey vaguely remembers the singer saying something about them forming only a couple years prior but Mickey couldn't bring himself to care. He wouldn’t touch that band with a ten-foot pole.

 

“Hey, mind if I sit here?” someone asked. Mickey turned just enough to make sure they were talking to him before shrugging and saying, “I guess so,”

 

He didn’t really question it. Sure, there was lots of room, but Mickey was sitting in one of the only spots with shade that hadn’t been overrun by wannabe emos, and he wasn’t completely heartless. So whatever - someone doesn’t want to be here either - who is he to deny a fellow hater some shade?

 

Then again, today hasn’t really been Mickey’s day, has it?

 

“Did you see Punchslyvannia's set?” the stranger asked. Just from hearing his voice Mickey felt something tug in his gut. It was low and raspy and everything Mickey loved. He wasn’t sure if the tug was from arousal at the guy’s voice or annoyance that he was talking in the first place.

 

“Who?”

 

The stranger chuckled. Mickey hated that.

 

“The band who played before this one. You hear ‘em?”

 

“Unfortunately,” he replied. Mickey was kind of hoping this guy was a diehard or something. Picking a fight was fun, but picking a fighting with a diehard emo? Nothing fucking like it. Not even multiple orgasms compared to the rush he got when fighting an emo.

 

The guy chuckled again. “I take it you didn’t like them, then?”

 

Mickey was a little disappointed. Fighting the guy would’ve been the most interesting thing he’d do all day - all month, even. This guy hardly seemed phased.

 

Mickey turned to finally get a glimpse of this guy and suddenly he was the farthest thing from disappointed.

 

The guy was fucking gorgeous. He had red hair and a jawline so sharp it could cut through steel. He was wearing a gray Letlive. baseball tee with black sleeves - Mickey could still tell he had biceps that could probably hold all of Mickey’s body weight without even struggling. Mickey wasn’t sure if the real life lens flare was coming from the sun or from heaven above.

 

The biggest turn on for Mickey was the silver hoop attached to his right nostril. He fucking loved nose rings more than anything. A guy gained at least three points just for having one by Mickey’s standards. And this guy was killing it.

 

Mickey looked away and focused his gaze to the band who playing - Paris, or Pee Virus, or something Mickey didn’t really give a shit about - and tried to pretend he wasn’t sat next to an angel sculpted by God himself.

 

Mickey hardly remembered what the guy said, and thanked his lucky stars when the guy continued. “What was wrong with them?”

 

Mickey shrugged. “Too generic for me. Felt like I was listening to the same song for fifty minutes.”

 

“Fair enough,” The stranger started. “So what kind of stuff do you listen to, then?”

 

“Northlane, Being As An Ocean, Letlive.,” Mickey said, pointing at the other man’s shirt.

 

“All good bands,” he agreed.

 

“Completely unlike every band here,”

 

The stranger let out a huff of laughter. “Why are you even here if you hate it all?”

 

“My sister dragged me here. How about you?”

 

“I didn’t say shit against pop punk,”

 

Mickey’s face fell even further than thought possible. “You came here _willingly_?”

 

This time, the guy let out an actual howl of laughter. Mickey should’ve hated it - he found it kind of endearing. Fucking emos.

 

“Yeah, I’m pretty open with my music taste. I enjoy almost anything."

 

“Even country? Iggy Azalea?”

 

“Hey, I like music, not masochism.” He responded.

 

Mickey let out an over exaggerated sigh before speaking. “Well, at least you’re sane,”

 

"You seem to have some strong opinions,"

 

"I do"

 

"So, you got a better reason to hate on Punchslyvannia?" He said teasingly.

 

Mickey sighed. “They sound like every other band here but like, ten times sloppier. Do they even know what they’re doing? I’m pretty sure they had their guitars out of tune for a song - it wasn’t in drop D,” Mickey started. “They seem like a bunch of douche bags ripping off every other pop punk band in world to get famous or some shit but failing, you know?”

 

The stranger let out a weak laugh and rubbed at the back of his neck - fuck, he shouldn’t be allowed to do that. He shouldn’t be allowed to move at all, or breathe, or having his fucking nose pierced, dammit.

 

“Cut them some slack, pretty sure it’s their first time on a tour like this.” He said, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and putting it in his mouth and searching for his lighter. Once he found it, he quickly lit the end of the cigarette and inhaled and exhaled before Mickey could even fathom words. He was mesmerized by this man smoking - what the fuck, was he a fifteen year old tumblr addict, or something. “D’ya mind?” the guy asks, in reference to the cigarette.

 

“Not if you share,” Mickey answered. The redhead smirked before taking another drag and handing the cigarette to Mickey. The smoke filled his lungs before he replied. “Who cares if it’s their first gig. Gotta play like you’ve been doing it your whole life, yanno? No one’s gonna pay for a ticket, see a shitty show, and go ‘oh, that was worth it, it was their first time’. No one fucking cares.”

 

“You got a point there…”

 

“Mickey.”

 

“Sweet. I’m Ian,” he said, reaching for his cigarette back.

 

Mickey nodded in response and yet again turned his attention to the stage.

 

(His attention was not on the stage, but on the hot guy in his peripheral).

 

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while - a couple songs, at least - sharing the last bit of the cigarette before Ian spoke up again. “Shit, man,  I gotta get going.”

 

Mickey tried not to get disappointed that he didn’t even fuck him but wow. Why didn’t he fuck him?  
  


“It was nice meeting you, Mickey,”

 

“Yeah, you too man,”

 

As Ian was brushing the dead grass of his black jeans - black jeans, in the middle of summer. That in itself would piss Mickey off if he wasn’t wearing the same - he made eye contact with Mickey before speaking up again. “You like Issues?" Ian asked.

 

Mickey nodded.

 

"I'm gonna go see their set now, if you wanted to join me?"

 

Mickey looked between the hot guy in front of him and the Pee Virus crowd Mandy was engulfed in. Fuck Mandy, he's done enough for her today. "yeah, why not."

 

Ian smiled and cocked his head in the direction they were heading. Mickey followed and took out his phone to text Mandy.

 

_To: emo queen_

_going to see issues w some hot guy. don't look for me_

_From: emo queen_

_;))))))))_

 

-

 

Being approximately four feet away from Tyler Carter was both frustrating and exhilarating. On one hand, he was so fucking close, but on the other hand, you can't fuck someone from four feet away. He expressed this thought with Ian, momentarily forgetting he shouldn't just blurt out how he feels to complete strangers. Ian just laughed and agreed, so he took that as a good sign.

 

It also meant Ian could be gay, which was slowly taking the forefront of Mickey's mind by storm.

 

-

He didn't mean for it to happen, honestly, he didn't. Mickey was just really caught up in the moment. Totally.

 

Except Mickey didn't really have any control over Ian kissing him, did he? Was it Ian who started it? He's not even sure. He just remembers getting really into Love Sex Riot and then the taste of cigarettes and general happiness on Ian's chapped lips. He remembers the feeling of Ian's stupid hair - long on the top and buzzed underneath - under his fingers; and he vaguely remembers feeling Ian's cheek that was way too soft to be normal.

 

But he also remembers Ian holding onto his back and neck. He remembers Ian getting into it as well. He remembers Ian looking just as flushed as he felt as they pulled apart. And suddenly, Tyler Carter wasn't the best thing at warped anymore.

 

-

 

Ian had left after the set, telling Mickey he had to meet up with his friends. He did give Mickey his number, though, but Mickey felt he'd probably never use it.

 

-

 

When he met up with Mandy again, Mickey got asked twenty questions in about three seconds.

"What did he look like? How hot was he? Do you like him? Can you stop being a grump now?"

 

"Can you shut the fuck up, it doesn't matter,"

 

Mandy frowned but dropped the subject.

 

"Where are we going?" Mickey asked.

 

"Punchslyvannia is doing a signing, so..." She trailed off.

 

"You mean, punch me in the face with a ten ton weight," Mickey muttered. Mandy rolled her eyes.

-

 

The closer to the front of the line they got, the more Mickey realized that God actually hated him.  

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" He exclaimed.

 

"What?" Mandy asked.

 

"That's the guy I went to see Issues with," Mickey subtly pointed at Ian, who was sat behind the table at the fucking signing they were in line for.

 

"You saw Issues with Ian Gallagher?!"

 

"Fucking seems that way,"

 

"Oh my God, you're so lucky-"

 

"Actually shut up,"

 

"He's so hot, though! Are you into him? Is he into you?"

 

"Jesus Christ, I don't know. What I do know is I shit talked his band that I now have to meet and pretend to not hate, thanks to you."

 

"Hey," Mandy said, slapping Mickey's arm. "I didn't tell you to shit talk a band to their bassist. That's on you, asshat,"

 

If Mickey was a pussy he'd have run away, but his pride is keeping in planted firmly in line.

 

Fuck his pride.

 

-

 

"Hi, Mickey," Ian started with a teasing voice. "Who's this?"

 

"I'm Mandy, his sister."

 

"Hey, Mandy, nice to meet you. How's your day been?"

 

The two fell into a short and casual conversation while Ian signed her ticket before Mandy thanked him and started to walk off. Mickey didn't move.

 

"Hey, uh," he started, rubbing his neck. "Sorry for uh, shit talking your band. If I'd known you were in it I wouldn't have been so harsh,"

 

Ian chuckled and took Mickey's ticket out of his hand. "It's fine, but if you really feel bad you can take me out to coffee sometime?" He tried.

 

Mickey smirked. "I'm not really the coffee date kind of guy,"

 

"A drink then?"

 

Mickey smiled but tried to play it cool. "We'll see," he said, taking his ticket from Ian's hand and walking off.

 

Mickey texted Ian at eleven the next morning asking about coffee.

 

Ian replied quickly, agreeing to go whenever Mickey wanted - Punchslyvannia was only on Warped for the one date.

  
And suddenly Mickey's only  thought was _fuck Tyler Carter, I want Ian Gallagher._

**Author's Note:**

> i felt it was very important to show you what shirt ian was wearing because wow. please give me a minute http://kingsroadmerch.com/letlive/view/?id=5171&cid=716
> 
> i had so much fun writing this honestly i love band aus


End file.
